Once More With Footnotes

"That's right !"
     
                  Crucible's head hit the grate with a hollow "clang!" The Devil picked him up and sat him in an armchair. Crucible opened one eye.
     
    -
     
                  The Devil was wearing a sober black suit, with a red carnation in the buttonhole. His thin waxed moustachios, combin ed with the minute beard, gave him a dignified air. A cloak and collapsible top hat were on the table.
     
                  Crucible had known it would happen. After ten years of prising cash from the unsuspecting businessman, one was bound to be caught by Nemesis. He rose t o his feet, brushing the soot from his clothes.
     
                  "Shall we be going?" he asked mournfully.
     
                  "Going? Where to?"
     
                  "The Other Place, I suppose."
     
                  "The Other Pl — ? Oh, you mean home! Good Heav — oops! pardon me — Hell! no! No one's come Down There for nearly tw o thousand years. Can't think why. No, I have come to you because I need some help Down There; the Hell business is just not paying — no more lost souls. Only chap that's come Down There for the last two thousand years was a raving nit called Dante; went aw a y with quite the wrong impression. You ought to have heard what he said about me!"
     
                  "I did read something about it somewhere."
     
                  "Indeed? Bad publicity for me, that. That's where you come in. "
     
                  " Oh?" Crucible pricked up his ears.
     
                  "Yes, I want you to adve rtise Hell. Clumsy! You've split your drink all over the carpet."
     
                  "W-why me?" croaked Crucible.
     
                  "You are the owner of the Square Deal Advertising Company, are you not? We want you to make the public conscious, Hell-wise. Not for eternal damnation, of c ourse. Just day trips, etcetera, Grand Tour of Hell, and all that."
     
                  "And if I refuse?"
     
                  "What would you say to ten thousand pounds?"
     
                  "Goodbye."
     
                  "Twenty thousand?"
     
                  "Hmm. Aren't I supposed to give you some tasks; sand-ropes and all that?"
     
                  The Devi l looked angry.
     
                  "Forty thousand and that's my last offer. Besides," the Devil pressed the tips of his fingers together and smiled at the ceiling, "there are some rather incriminating facts about the Payne-Smith Products case, which we could make public?"
     
                  "Now you're speaking my language. Forty thousand pounds and hush about the P and S case?"
     
                  "Yes." Done.
     
                  "I'm so glad you see it my way," said the Devil. Crucible seated himself behind his mahogany desk and took out a pad. He indicated a polished silv er box
     
                  "Cigarette?"
     
                  "Thanks."
     
                  Crucible took a cigarette himself and felt for his lighter. Suddenly, a thought struck him.
     
                  "How do I know you are Old Nick?"
     
                  The Devil shuddered. "Please! Nicholas Lucifer to you. Well, I know about the P and S case , don't I?" Crucible's eyes gleamed.
     
                  "You may be some smart-alec Dick. Convince me. Go on, convince me!"
     
                  "Okay, you asked for it. By the way, that gun in your left-hand pocket would be useless against me." The Devil leaned nonchalantly, extending a fin ger towards Crucible.
     
                  "See? You're a phoney, a low do — "
     
                  Crack!
     
                  A bolt of lightning shot across the room. The end of Crucible's cigarette glowed.
     
                  "I — I — I'm convinced! "
     
                  " So glad."
     
                  Crucible became his old self.
     
                  "Let's get down to business. I take i t you want Hell to be exploited in every possible way? "
     
                  " Yes."
     
                  "Well, I'm afraid I can't do much until I have seen the place — from the living point of view, you